


And So I'll Let The Water Take Me

by angel_scum



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Alternate Universe - Dark, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Captivity, Depressing, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Forced Bonding, Forced Prostitution, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, MERMAID STILES, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Mute Stiles, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rape, Seriously this is going to be depressing as hell, Siren Stiles Stilinski, Sirens, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-02
Updated: 2017-04-02
Packaged: 2018-10-14 04:46:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10529232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angel_scum/pseuds/angel_scum
Summary: The Argents have had a strong hold on the city of Beacon Hills for as long as anyone can remember. They're ruthless, dangerous and willing to use any means necessary to get what they deem is theirs. They work from the shadows, feeding off the rotten underbelly of corruption and greed that Beacon Hills has become.Enter Agent Hale. Derek has been trying to topple the Argent crime regime ever since they killed his family in cold blood. He's always one step behind them, always just within reach of revenge. Annoyed by Derek's continual intervention but not threatened, the Argents send the ace up their sleeves to get rid of the Hale family once and for all.Only... that ace might just be the king of hearts, instead.





	

**Author's Note:**

> You've been warned!

 

The first memory Stiles had about the surface world was one of peaceful. The ocean was especially calm that day, with the whispered songs of his whole pod hanging lightly in the air - a soft scent, a cool breeze. He was young at the time, maybe ten tides, only recently deemed able to breath above water. 

Later memories were less peaceful. Often he wouldn’t surface until there was already blood in the water, the lewd figures of other sirens casting shadows in the moonlit waters, obscuring the rubble of their most recent hunting endeavor. 

Now though - now Stiles was terrified. The surface world was not a nice place. 

Not by a long shot.

* * *

  
  


_ Stiles thrashed, digging his sharp nails into the mesh material without any avail, instead hissing as it cut into his skin, surrounding him, entrapping him. He screamed then, something ugly and terrified - too petrified to properly shift, let alone work up a song.  _

_ For some reason, though, he had the feeling that even if he were able to sing at the moment, the humans currently circling in boats above him like sharks would probably be protected from it. Shielded from a siren’s powers, just as their netting was.  _

_ And wasn't that just terrifying? Stiles renewed his struggling, fear spiking through him and making the water smell acrid with it. He was being pulled, the netting forcing him along and upward, the hull of a nearby boat looming ahead. And then he was being pulled out of the water, strong hands gripping the netting as the humans forced Stiles to surface.  _

_ Before he knew it, the air was being pushed out of him from the impact of his body on the hard, metallic ship deck.   _

_ His gills moved uselessly as he lay there panting, trying to regulate the unexpected change from water to air. Stiles registered movement around him, humans shouting in a coarse language - guttural and low. He stayed still, lungs working on slowly oxygenating his blood once more after the shock of being pulled from the water.  _

_ It was only when a human approached - a man with icey eyes and bulky clothing protecting most of his body - that Stiles regained his senses enough to hiss. His face changed, the sharp teeth elongating out of his gums, ridges budding along his jaw and cheekbones. The man only tilted his head, nodding to someone behind Stiles - someone that Stiles, in his overwhelming daze, didn't even notice approaching - and suddenly his world was pitching on end.  _

_ Stiles screamed - or at least, he thought he screamed. He wasn’t really sure. It wasn’t as though he was really in control of his body at the moment, what with his muscles coiling on their own accord. It felt like forever, like he was being ripped apart from the inside out.  _

_ It felt like he was dying.  _

_ When the object finally was taken off of his body, Stiles could do little else but lay there panting, netting laying limply over his line of sight, trying to remember how to breathe. The man moved closer and Stiles was forced to stay there as he approached, watching his movement with glossy wet eyes from where he was sure he was crying.  _

_ The man tilted his head, kneeling down as he pulled out an object - thick and oblong with what looked to be a sewing needle tipping the end.  _

_ Stiles stiffened, bringing his hands up to cover his face while curling into an impossibly small ball, as though he could protect himself in such a situation. He shut his eyes, hissing as he felt more than anything else the man stepping closer.  _

_ Apparently, the involuntary hiss was not inaudible, as Stiles felt the prod of that cursed, cursed object making him spasm and tense once more.  _

_ When it finally stopped, Stiles was openly sobbing. Metal objects - like crab claws - clamped down on first one leg, then an arm, then Stiles’ wrist and other ankle. He was forced onto his back, stomach bared, sobbing and incapable of doing more than wriggling.  _

_ The human seemed unaffected by Stiles’ blind panic, as he moved forward and shoved the needle into the siren’s neck, efficiently injecting some form of liquid into his veins.  _

“No, no, no, no, stop -!” 

_ The man didn’t notice, probably not understand Siren Speak.  _

_ Soon enough, though, Stiles’ thrashing turned to twitching, turning to darkness.  _

  
  


_ When he woke up, the first thing he recognized was that he was still above water. His gills felt raw and parched, while the webbing between his fingers and toes was beginning to ache from being left out when Stiles had been forced asleep.  _

_ Groaning, the siren tried to sit up, only to find that he was strapped down.  _

_ The light that shone down into his eyes was blinding, artificial, painful. He squinted, leaning back as he tried to get away from it, to little avail.  _

_ A hand landed on his shoulder, startling Stiles as he yelped and began to frantically chatter - trying to convey some meaning, any meaning, to the humans that had taken him.  _

Don’t touch me, let me go, what do you want!

_ The first human seemed to be ignoring him, instead looking across the table which the siren was strapped to to instead say something.  _

_ Whatever Human One said to Human Two must’ve been convincing enough, as they other man nodded, pulling on some thin, flexible gloves.  _

_ Human One leaned over Stiles, obscuring the light and making him struggle even more.  _

Stop it, get away from me, what the -

_ There was a chunk of plastic being pushed between his teeth, causing Stiles to choke on spit and breathe through his nose. Saliva quickly pooled around the seam of his lips, and Stiles struggled further, trying to spit out the plastic. It appeared, though, that the humans had been ready for that. For not a moment later, a strap was winding itself around his head, pulling painfully on his overgrown hair and clipping shut with a distinct finality.  _

_ Stiles did the only thing he could, then. He tried to shift.  _

_ He was tired, he was drying out, he had been kept in his beta form for too long. So he tried to shift fully, to bring out his nails and teeth and deadly talons -  _

_ He screamed, feeling the pain of his body caging in his inner harpy. It hurt, it hurt a lot, and for a minute he thought he would black out.  _

_ When he finally came to enough to look around, he found the humans laughing at him. At his pain.  _

_ They had done this.  _

_ Something cold and finite settled in his stomach.  _

_ For the first time in a long time, he realized he wasn’t going to be getting away from trouble.  _

 

* * *

 

Stiles was shaking with exertion by the time he was ushered down from the stage. Bending gracefully in order to pick up his discarded clothing, Stiles rushed to grab a rag and wipe down the pole for the next dancer. He grabbed the pile of crumpled ones as he went, dumping them into the profit box before rushing to the dressing room. 

Stiles wasn’t dumb, so he didn't take long freshening up. Argent had beat as much into him, after all. 

Swallowing when he approached the dressing room mirror, he quickly avoided eye contact with himself, instead letting his gaze lock onto the ribbon tied around his neck. Stiles didn't dare reach for it - not willing to look at the ugly, neat, damning scar that resided underneath. 

Swallowing down the swell of emotions churning in his guts, Stiles slowly applied a light layer of eyeliner to his lashes, carefully tapping a finger ladened with chapstick onto his lips. Taking his time. Trying to find some form of reprieve. 

He pulled on a pair of pants - foregoing underwear - and a light, airy top. It did nothing to hide the fact that he had pierced nipples - instead accentuating them with a sliver-thin golden chain around his waist. 

Closing his eyes, Stiles mentally prepared himself for this next customer before sliding a small packet of pills and knife into his pant pocket, along with a couple packets of lube and a condom. 

 

One of the managers gave Stiles the room number, along with a sharp slap to the ass, which had him dipping his head and curling into himself as much as he could until he got to the stairs. From there, it was all routine. Knock lightly, smile while handing the man (middle aged, paunchy, balding and loaded with money) a small, scented note. 

 

_ I’m yours for an hour, love. _

 

“Your pimp said you were mute. You still understand me though, right?”

Stiles gave a seductive look, shy yet knowing, before nodding and biting his bottom lip. 

The man all but pulled the siren into the skeezy room. 

 

The thing about sirens is that they are much more resilient than men. Living in the ocean, feeding off the husks of shipwrecks, left the race of sirens much less susceptible to things such as poisons. Well, at least, human poisons. 

Stiles slipped a pill into his mouth, hiding a grimace at the flavor of death and decay. Returning back to the bed with another condom in hand, he swallowed down his disgust and instead leaned into the man’s arms, letting the aggressive tongue and bruising hands take him.

Letting the poison do its work.

  
  


Dawn had already risen by time someone came to fetch Stiles. He was curled up on the bed, as far away from the corpse as he could manage, kneels drawn up to his chest. He didn’t look up when the door opened, eyes wide and distant. 

“There you are! God damn it, you stupid fish, I told you to come to my office once it was done.”

Stiles flinched a bit at Kate’s voice, but otherwise kept as still as he could manage. He was cold, shivering, naked. 

He wasn’t expecting the smack, so when Kate’s hand hit Stiles, he was thrown off-center, falling over onto the dead body next to him. He tried to scramble off, but Kate was already on him, an iron grip bruising his wrist as she bodily yanked him off the bed altogether. 

“You look at me when I’m talking, you understand?” 

Stiles nodded, shaking now, keeping his head bowed. 

He could feel her eyes on him, assessing and probably planning, but he wouldn’t dare to raise his face to meet her gaze. It was safer to go along with whatever she wanted; it meant Stiles was less likely to be hurt. 

Finally, he heard a rustling of clothing, then retreating footsteps. He dared a glance up, seeing Kate turn in the doorway. 

“Oh and honey,” her voice was saccharin sweet. “Clean yourself up, before coming to my room. We have some unfinished business.” And then she was gone. 

Stiles sat there a moment more, before reluctantly hauling himself up. Going to Kate’s room always meant one of two things: painful sex, or outright pain. 

Either way, it looked as though Stiles’ wasn't going to be getting any sleep.   
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I can't decide how long I want the chapters to be. This is a couple hundred words shy from 2k, but I'm actually considering making chapters around 5k or even 10. Not sure though!


End file.
